


The Hands That Bind You Guide Me

by primreceded



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-09
Updated: 2008-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primreceded/pseuds/primreceded





	The Hands That Bind You Guide Me

**Title:** The Hands That Bind You Guide Me  
 **Rating:** pg13  
 **Fandom:** Supernatural  
 **Disclaimer:** All characters, recognizable settings and or themes belong to Eric Kripke, the CW, and others. I am in no way earning money or other profit from this fanfic.  
 **Char/Pair:** Dean/Sam  
 **Prompt:** Answer @ [](http://www.insanejournal.com/users/spn_25/profile)[**spn_25**](http://www.insanejournal.com/users/spn_25/), table [here](http://buyo105.insanejournal.com/705.html#cutid9)  
 **Spoilers:** For 4x01 and goes AU from there.  
 **Warnings:** Slash, wincest  
 **W/C:** 540  
 **A/N:** Sequal to [I Liked The Way Your Hand Looked on My Head](http://buyo105.insanejournal.com/61474.html). I've been Kripke'd :(

 

When Dean comes back to their room Sam’s sitting on the side of the bed with his back to the door, naked and unashamed. Though really he has little to be ashamed _of_. From where Dean’s standing he can see Sam chewing his nails, a bad habit he’s always had no matter how hard Dean tried to break it. Only when he’s nervous, never a good sign.

“Hey. You plan on getting dressed any time today or what? Waitin’ for Ruby?”

He tries for snarky but it only comes out flat and maybe a little angry. Sam sighs heavily and pushes himself up before finally facing Dean. He looks tired and Dean turns to put the donuts and coffee he’d gotten for breakfast on the table so he doesn’t have to look at him, to know he’s the reason.

“I already _told you_ Dean, I‘m not --”

“Yeah, yeah, Sammy. Can I have my caffiene before we get into this?”

Dean reaches for his coffee but something else gets to it first. The cups hit the wall and brown liquid splashes up to soak the white curtains, heat smoke rising from the wall. Dean stands frozen, hand still poised over the cardboard carrier. Dean blinks once, twice and then he’s moving fast to the window, checking the salt lines and mumbling under his breath.

“What the hell was that?”

He rounds on Sam, expectant, but Sam just stares back, jaw clenched. Dean gives him a weird look before running into the bathroom to check the window in there and finally the front door. All lines are still intact and Sam still hasn’t moved.

“What the _hell_ was that, Sam?”

“It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Dean.”

Dean looks at him confused but he doesn’t say a word. Sam takes a step towards him and then another until he’s right in front of his brother. Hand raised and Dean’s lifted off his feet and dropped onto the bed behind him.

“You don’t understand, Dean. I was preparing to march into Hell and drag you back. You can’t do that with a fake badge and clip on tie. I needed Ruby.”

Dean struggles against the invisible hold on his chest but it does no good. He’s pinned to the mattress.

“You’re doing this? With what, your _mind_? Jesus Sam, what‘s wrong with you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me!” Sam yells, arms outstretched and his fingers practically bumping the walls of their tiny motel room. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so angry.

“Christo.” Even when he whispers the word Dean’s got his eyes fixed behind Sam‘s left shoulder, can’t bear to see Sam’s own shift from hazel to black, or worse, yellow.

Sam just laughs though, and Dean feels the invisible binds snake their way from his middle to tighten around his wrists before he looks back at Sam. His brother’s eyes are the same color they’ve always been, if not a little wild.

“I’m not possessed, Dean. I’m still me.”

Sam takes a step closer to the bed and towers over Dean. He’s got a small smirk on his lips and he’s wearing a look Dean’s seen plenty of times in the past. It’s one that has always made his jeans tighten a little, and one that gets the same reaction from him now.

Dean stops struggling, the bonds don’t hurt and he doubts they’ll leave bruises, but moving doesn’t seem to be accomplishing anything either. Besides, he’s not afraid of Sam so much as he’s afraid _for_ Sam.

His brother sits down on the foot of the bed, sideways with his hip cocked toward Dean, and he watches. His eyes shine normal color-bright in the street lamp glow that filters in through the motel curtains, staring down at Dean in challenge. Dean just lays there waiting to see what his brother will do.

He didn’t have to wait long, though. He could feel a pressure on his belly, invisible hands with nimble fingers run underneath his shirt and he can see it bunch up to reveal skin. Dean knew it was wrong but he couldn’t stop the curl of want even if he wanted to. Something about being dominated, by _Sam_ no less, just hit all kinds of kinks.

Whatever Sam was doing he wasted no time getting to it, spared no second thoughts. He unzipped Dean’s jeans and slipped inside his boxers to wrap around his cock, but Dean wanted to feel Sam’s real hands, warm calloused flesh pumping him to climax.

He lays back, lets the feel of the binds on his wrists settle into him and the feel of the vice grip on his cock take him to the edge. Sam sits at the foot of the bed, quiet and it’s a little unnerving. Dean tries to remember what it was like to have Sam’s mouth wrapped around him, hot and wet. He really wants Sam to let go, take off the binds and just touch him with skin and tongue.

With a bitten off groan Dean comes, hot and slick over his own belly. He’s breathless and he can feel the flush in his cheeks. The binds loosen and Dean flexes his wrists before tucking himself back in and zipping up.

“Sam. You’ve got to know this isn’t right.” Dean sits up and Sam sighs before sitting next to him, hand in his hair.

“I don’t know what’s right at all anymore, Dean. But I can’t let this control me.”

“You plan on using it to keep controlling me?” The joke this time hit’s the way it’s supposed to as Sam’s lips tilt up a little.

“Sorry.”

Dean nods jerkily before clapping his brother on the back and getting up to clean the mess Sam had made. The conversation isn’t over by a long shot, especially not after what just happened, but for now Dean will keep an eye on his brother. Dean didn’t go to Hell for nothin’.


End file.
